


A Supernatural Christmas Carol

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, Gen, John injured, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Morning Cuddles, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, soft, supernatural Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 20:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: I mean, do you remember what’s coming up in a few days.”“No. I’m not following.”“Christmas, John. Lord have mercy on this dimwitted young man.”“Oh. Right.” John spat some blood on the ground. “Yeah I was going to celebrate that a few days later this year. Bobby and I have a hunt.”“Oh yeah, not problem, it’s just the day to celebrate the birth of our lord and savior, but no, that’s fine, completely fine. Celebrate it a few days later if you want.”





	A Supernatural Christmas Carol

> **A Supernatural Christmas Carol**
> 
> **Pastor Jim’s, 1987.**
> 
> **Dean 8, Sam 4.**

 

The gravestones lined the snowy graveyard, which Pastor Jim was walking through. He had recently finished a service yesterday for a family who lost their husband. A truck slid over some ice and ran directly into a Christmas tree lot. It was heading straight for a little girl, but her father stepped in  and shoved her out of the way. Jim shook his head sadly. It was times like this that he struggled the most with his job. At times it didn’t seem fair, but Jim had to remind himself that everything happens for a reason. He noticed some recently placed graves and some other old, cracked  
and crumbling ones. He found the family he was looking for a placed a beautiful wreath next to it. 

 

“Rest well my friend. I’ll take care of your family while you are away.” 

 

Cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes. With purple lips, Jim pulled his coat tighter around himself and stood to leave. 

 

“Dean help.” 

 

Jim froze. He knew that voice, but usually it was harsh and demanding, but now it was panic-stricken.

 

What was John Winchester doing here? Did that mean that perhaps a supernatural creature was in the area? His eyes scanned the place a few times, then finally detected the still body laying on the ground. 

 

“John?” Jim asked as he approached the man with caution. He noticed the long red gash on his friend’s cheek and the unusual pale color of his skin. His brown eyes looked wide and stark. He wasn't dressed for being outdoors either. “What on earth happened?”

 

John let out a strangled groan, “ugh. Jim? Is that you?” 

 

“Yes. It’s me. Are you alright?” 

 

John grunted again, breathing very ragged. It sounded as though he were trying not to whine. 

 

“A spirit got me pretty good.”

 

“I can see that. My goodness, you’re bleeding everywhere.” 

 

Jim hadn’t noticed it before, but the snow was a stark red beneath John’s body. John was practically curled in on himself shivering violently. 

 

“Y-yeah, this vengeful spirit did not want it’s bones burned. And the stupid thing had a love for knives. It tore me up like chew toy before I could actually kill it.”

 

“But you did kill it?” Pastor Jim asked looked around the graveyard. 

 

“of c-course, I did, Jim.” 

 

“Then What happened?” 

 

“Nothing, I’m just trying to get back to my car.” 

 

“So you collapsed.” Jim said, mainly to himself. 

 

“What does it look like?” John growled, trying to move to stand up. Jim went to help him and John started shouting at him.

 

“I can do it myself, dammit.” 

 

“Of course you can. I’m just helping a little. Where are your boys?” 

 

“The car. They’re in t-t-the car.” 

 

“Good. Good.” Jim mumbled, taking each step very slowly, his arm never leaving John’s waist. “Well, let’s go see them.” 

 

“I was on my way to them.” John whispered. “I could’ve gotten there myself.”

 

“I know, John. I know.” Jim said as he gently lifted more of his friend’s weight onto himself. Truthfully, John was in no condition to even be walking right now. From what Jim could see, he had about ten bleeding gashes from the back of his neck down to his ankles. He’s going to need stitched up. He might even have a ripped arm muscle. 

 

“Dad?” 

 

John Winchester’s oldest boy, Dean, was already ten feet away from the car, making his way towards his father. 

 

“Dad! I was just about to go looking for you. Are you okay?” 

 

Jim can’t imagine the little eight-year-old finding his Daddy all cut up in a puddle of snowy blood. It would have scared him half to death. Thank God Jim was here tonight at the exact same time John needed him. Yet another beautiful demonstration of fate. 

 

“You’re Daddy’s going to be just fine.” Jim said to the small brunette. 

 

“What happened?” Dean’s voice cracked with an achy raw kind of pain. 

 

“I had a bit of an adventure, Ace. I’m fine.” John said with a pained smile. “Go in the car and watch your little brother. I’m not going to be able to bathe him tonight so I need you to do it, okay?” 

 

“Dad -“

 

“Ok?” He said, firmly, making it an order. 

 

“Yes sir.” Dean whispered. He rushed back to the car and hopped in the backseat where his baby brother was laying curled up in some blankets.  

 

“Are you comfortable with staying at my place?” the pastor asked quietly. 

 

“Oh, no, Jim. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

 

“Nonsense. I want you to stay with me.” Jim insisted because that was the only way with John Winchester. “That way, I could give little Sammy his bath and you could rest.” 

 

“Dean can do it.” 

 

“I know. But my bathtub has that toy boat they love.” 

 

John snorted. “No, Jim. I have a hunt planed with Bobby. I’m due at his place tomorrow so I gotta get on the roa -Ow!.” The young hunter was clutching his side, wincing so tightly he was sure to be forming frown lines. 

 

“Well there’s no way you’re driving like this. Call that old hunter Bobby and tell him he can come down here for the next few days. And then you two can do your hunt.” 

 

“It doesn’t really work like that, man. I can’t just press pause on the evil in the world.”  

 

“No but _you_ could pause for a little while. At least until you feel better. I mean, after all, John, you remember what time of year this is don’t you?” 

 

“Yeah winter. It’s fucking freezing.” John muttered. 

 

“I mean, do you remember what’s coming up in a few days.” 

 

“No. I’m not following.” 

 

“Christmas, John. Lord have mercy on this dimwitted young man.” 

 

“Oh. Right.” John spat some blood on the ground. “Yeah I was going to celebrate that a few days later this year. Bobby and I have a hunt.”

 

“Oh yeah, not problem, it’s just the day to celebrate the birth of our lord and savior, but no, that’s fine, completely fine. Celebrate it a few days later if you want.”  

 

“Really you’re cool with it?” 

 

“You tell that old hunter, Bobby, he can come down here and spend Christmas with me. Maybe even buy those two little boy’s of yours presents. But you are celebrating Christmas on the 25th of December or so help me, John,  I will never talk to you again. clear?” 

 

“Well okay then, Jim.” John said with a laugh. “I guess I’m spending Christmas with you. I don’t think your realize what you just did. My two boys can be quite the troublemakers.” 

 

“They’ll be angels, I’m sure.” Jim mumbled as he opened the passenger door and slid John inside. 

 

“I can drive.” John declared. 

 

“I know. But I’ve always wanted to give your car a test drive.”  It was his way of making John feel useful and not weak. Pretend he’s been dying to drive the impala and that way John won’t feel bad about not being able to drive.

 

“It’s icy, Jim. Too dangerous for you to drive. Let me.” 

 

“Oh, you think you can?” 

 

“I’m more skilled with cars than you. Tell ‘im, Dean.” John glanced through the review mirror at his oldest son, who was curled up in a blanket. His little brother was sleeping next to him. 

 

“Yeah, Dad knows everything about cars, Pastor Jim.” 

 

“Oh, does he now?” Jim teased. 

 

“Yep.” Dean said, before listing all of the things his Dad had taught him about cars. While Dean was rambling on, Jim pulled the car out onto the street. 

 

John didn't speak the whole ride to Jim’s house; he laid with his head against the window and his eyes closed. When they arrived at the small house, Jim helped John out of the car and into the warm place he called home. He made sure the boys were right behind him as he walked on the salted driveway. Things could be really slippery and dangerous this time of year and the steep steps outside were an accident waiting to happen. 

 

Once inside, John’s eyes swept the room, pausing for a moment as he looked at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Then, realizing Jim was watching him, his expression grew hooded and he looked towards the floor. Dean and Sam’s expressions were not so hidden. 

 

“Wow!” Sammy squealed running towards the tree at full toddler force, “Dean! Look how big the tree is! It’s a tree inside a house. Did it grow inside the floorboards? That’s so weird. An inside tree with colors!” 

 

“It’s a Christmas tree, Sammy, and it’s beautiful.” Dean said, walking up to it and grabbing the bulbs with his curious little fingers. 

 

“Careful.” John scolded both boys, “don’t break anything in Pastor Jim’s house. We’re lucky he’s letting us stay.” 

 

“Yes sir.” Dean whispered. His hand was already back inside his jean pockets. He had to tug Sammy’s away. 

 

“Go get ready for bed, boys.” John ordered, but it was soft, almost a suggestion. 

 

Still, Dean took his brother’s hand and went to the bathroom. 

 

Jim guided the young hunter into the guestroom and watched as John slowly laid down on his side in the bed. Jim took his shoes off as he wordlessly slid under the covers. 

"I'm going to get us some warm whiskey. Is there anything else I can get you?'

John shook his head but just as the Pastor was about to exit he heard John speak quietly.

"Murphy, do you have any painkillers? My back is sore. Worse than I’d like to admit.” 

“I’m on it.” Jim said with a smile. He quietly shut the door, and walked into the kitchen only to notice the front door was open. 

Oh no. Trouble so soon? The boys just got here. Jim quickly went to the door, pausing to look out into the cold night. He spotted John’s kids standing next to the Chevy Impala. 

“Boys!” He shouted across the front yard. “Get back in here.” The boys weren’t even dressed properly. They were definitely going to catch a cold if they didn’t get inside immediately. 

The boys shouted back that they were coming, but they weren’t actually moving. Dean was busy digging through the trunk of the impala while Sammy stood by his side, holding something over his shoulders. It was dark and Jim couldn’t quite make out whatever he was holding. 

“Come on, let’s go back inside now.” He said again, trying to add more firmness to his voice. It wasn’t really working. 

Then, Dean closed the trunk. Perhaps his stern voice did work? He watched with worry as the kids climbed the icy steps. He nearly had a heart attack when little Sammy wobbled backwards on the top step about to plummet backwards, but thankfully, Dean was ever attentive to his little brother, and was able to balance him with a steady hand. 

As soon as they were within arm’s reach, Jim pulled them inside. “Boys, you can’t go outside in the cold without a coat. You could get sick.” 

“But Pastor Jim, that’s what I was getting.” Dean explained. “Our stuff was in the trunk.” 

Jim noticed the duffle bags slung around both boy’s shoulders. “Oh.” 

“Here. You can give this to Dad. It has his pajamas in there.” Jim suddenly had his hands full with a giant duffle bag. How did John get away with carrying this thing around everywhere? It looked like an assassins bag. “He likes to wear his pjs when he’s hurt.” Dean explained “but he doesn’t want you to know that so pretend you don’t.” 

“Ok.” 

Sammy was tugging at his pant leg the whole time, so Jim knelt down next to him. “What is it?” He asked sweetly. 

“I don’t need diapers anymore, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.” Jim looked up at Dean in desperate need for an explanation. 

“He’s too BIG now.” Dean mocked, rolling his eyes for extra emphasis. 

“I am big!” Sam yelled. “I’m not a baby.” 

“He still needs pull-ups.” Dean said to Pastor Jim, but was not surprised at all when his little brother kicked him. 

“Do not!” Sammy shrieked. 

“Dad says you do.” Dean exclaimed, looking Sam in the eye. A little fist was about to smack him in the stomach, so Dean grabbed both of Sam’s fists. “Don’t hit. It hurts.”

“I don’t need them. I don’t wet the bed no more.” 

“What about in Albuquerque? Or last Friday, in Montana.” 

“No more.” Sam whined. 

“Come on, Sammy. You can wear the really cool kind. You know, the one’s with Scooby-Doo.” 

“I can?” 

“Yeah. I saw the box. We definitely still have a few pairs.” 

“I’ll be cool?” 

“Yes Sammy. You’ll be very cool.” 

“Come on, let’s get you two washed. You smell like mud.”  

John wakes with vague memories of Jim hustling him inside and giving him hot whiskey and a stern lecture on the importance of resting for Christmas. So frankly he’s not surprised he can’t remember where the hell he threw his shoes before he collapsed into bed. 

 

It’s cold as the tundra and John really wants something to warm his frozen feet.   
He gives up looking and heads out of the bedroom in a threadbare t-shirt and worn pajama pants. It’s his favorite pants to wear when his injuries aren’t life threatening, but still sting like a bitch. 

 

If anything, the hall outside is colder than the guest bedroom. The hairs on his arms rise, and he rubs at the goosebumps, the faint friction warming the skin. His boys are in the room at the end of the corridor, the little low-eaved attic bedroom that Jim always keeps ready for them, just in case. It’s comforting actually, to know his kids will always have a place to go even if something should happen to him. Which, after last night, is seeming more and more possible. 

He stops at the door. Only one bed is occupied; Dean’s, the one nearest the window, because that’s where Dean always sleeps. So he can check on the salt lines and stand guard. Sammy’s bed is empty; the sheets pulled back, the comforter missing. 

  
Sam is curled up against Dean, wrapped tight in the cocoon of the comforter and pulled in close under his brother’s arm. They’re little more than two heads on a pillow, all bound up in a nest of blankets and sheets and what appears to be John’s missing flannel shirt. It went missing a year ago, and the kids swore they didn’t know where it went so he figured he lost it at a laundromat. But there it was snug safely under Sam’s chin like a blankie. 

Dean surfaces first, gradually aware of another presence in the room. He pushes the comforter down.

“Dad.” His teeth are chattering a little. “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah, Dean. It’s me. I’m up.” John will never understand how silly some kids questions can be. But he likes it. He likes silly questions from Dean and Sam. “Hey, It’s kinda cold.”

“Yes, sir.” It’s not the yessir of obedience, but more an expression of agreement as Dean nods vehemently, the movement disturbing his brother.

“Deean. You got all the blankets.” Sam’s face appears over the edge of the comforter. “Daddy!”

“Sammy.” John grins, leans against the doorjamb, and wraps his hands around his trembling upper arms.

“D’you get it, Dad?” Dean asks. 

  
John nods. “Salted and burned.” He steps into the room. “You been good for Pastor Jim?”

The synchronized nodding is a little too enthusiastic to be credible, but he’s willing to let whatever mischief they’ve got up to slide. They’re good boys, he knows that. 

“You boys wanna crawl in with me for a while?” 

They’re out of bed and over beside him almost before he’s finished the invitation. Sam has his comforter wrapped around his shoulders like a royal cloak, and another one of John’s shirts, that Dean is wearing, hits him around mid-knee level, like a nightgown. 

  
The boys lead the way, Dean going first and Sam shuffling along behind him, the comforter trailing in his wake. Dean takes a run and bounces onto the bed, the ancient springs creaking in protest at such undignified behavior, and Sam follows suit.

“Easy, there,” John says, but there’s no censure in his tone as he crawls into bed between them. Their teeth chatter uncontrollably, and he pulls them close, wrapping an arm around each boy's shoulders.

“Huddle for warmth,” Dean whispers, and John wonders if he remembers it was Mary who used to say that, when Dean would slip in beside them looking for comfort on a stormy night.

Sammy’s popsicle toes press against his calf and John hisses, bites down on a startled yelp. Beside him Dean snickers. “Zombie feet.”

“They are not.” Sammy's foot lashes out, his heel missing Dean and hitting John’s knee cap

“Are too.” Dean teases, kicking Sam’s shin. 

“Boys,” John growls and hauls them closer, curling his fingers around their arms. Dean rolls towards him, and John feels the damp warmth of his son’s breath on his bicep. Sammy slings his arm over John’s chest and his breathing slows to a soft snuffling snore. 

John’s just glad to be somewhere safe with his two favorite people. 

 

There was a knock at the door an hour later. Pastor Jim told John to stay still, and that he would answer the door. 

 

“It’s been a while.” A gruff voice said. Dean and Sam looked at each other. They couldn’t tell who it was yet.

 

 “Good to see you too.” Pastor Jim said. 

 

“I brought some presents.” The mystery man sounded so cheery...like Santa Claus. 

 

Santa thumped down the hall with his big heavy shoes. Then he poked his head into the room with a handful of presents.

 

“Dean! Daddy! It’s Santa Claus!” Sam screamed, leaping up from the bed. He scattered over to the big jolly man. 

 

“I ain’t Santa Claus. Do I look like Santa Claus to you.” 

 

Dean snickered again and threw his face into his father’s chest before Bobby had the chance to glare at him. 

 

“How you been, Singer?” John asked, moving to stand up. 

 

“Just dandy. Lay back down, would ya?” 

 

“I take it Jim called you?” 

 

“Yeah well, he said you were hurt and your boys were here and you know I can’t resist spoiling them so...”

 

“What did you bring?” John asked. 

 

“I can’t tell you. It’ll spoil the surprise.” 

 

“Let me see! Let me see!” Sam jumped up and down, tugging at Bobby’s jeans. 

 

John shifted in bed, laying his head against the headboard. He appreciated his friends buying his boys gifts, but a part of him get guilty as hell he couldn’t provide a simple toy car without straining his wallet. It spiked a wave of jealousy that his boy’s might like Bobby and Jim better than him. Even worse, John hated feeling like he owed someone and by the looks of the two heavy bags Bobby had in his hands, John owes him a lot. 

 

“Jeez, how much did you spend?” John asked and he graciously accepted the whiskey Jim offered. Dean watched his Dad closely reaching out to see if he could take a sip. John simply reached over to the bedside table and handed him a glass of water. 

 

“Not much.” Bobby mumbled, looking sheepishly at the carpet. “I um, got a discount from a friend. She’s a librarian.” 

 

“She? Wow Singer, that’s quite the discount.” John said winking. Even Jim Murphy was laughing his ass off. 

 

“Ah shut up.” Bobby yelled, handing Sam one of the wrapped gifts. “Here ya go, Sam. You can have this one before Christmas. But you have to wait for the rest.” 

 

Bobby smiled at John, “I figured some of them could go under the tree and be from you-know-who.” 

 

John nodded, Sammy was a firm believer in good old Santa Claus and he was going to keep it that way as long as he could. Poor Deano missed out on that tradition. John didn’t celebrate for a few years after Mary’s death and well, Dean learned on his own that Santa didn’t come unless Daddy made him come. And since Dean’s such a smart kid, he put it together quickly. Santa didn’t come because he didn’t exist. But Sammy was different. Sammy escaped the pain of his mother’s death. He didn’t know anything about what John hunted. No, Sammy could still be a normal kid. So John put up the facade for him. Although it was a really bad attempt every year. Instead of pretty colorful wrapping paper, it was in bags of the cheapest tissue paper John could find. There was only one bag for each boy every year and inside that bag was a range of small trinkets that they would enjoy. Often toy soldiers, crayons, coloring books, stuffed animals, and cards. Whatever the boys got they were always appreciative.

 

One year Sam got a broken Yo-yo. It must have broke in the back of the truck when John was driving, but Sam thought Santa was punishing him for being bad. He told his Dad that he wasn’t good this year and Santa knew it so he brought him a broken yo-yo. Dean and John spent the next hour trying to cheer Sammy up and assure him he was good. 

 

“Santa’s just clumsy.” Dean said, “He probably sat on it with his big fat butt and it broke.” 

 

Luckily Dean was able to make him feel better. After that, John made sure every gift was working before he gave it to his kids. 

 

“DADDY! Look books! I got books!” Sam shouted. He climbed the huge bed, and jumped right on John’s lap making the man grunt in pain. Little feet somehow always find that sensitive place. 

 

“Look.” He shoved the hard-back of _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_ , in John’s face. 

 

“Yes. I see, Sammy. That’s very nice. What do you say to Uncle Bobby?” 

 

“Thank you, Uncle Bobby. I love it.” 

 

“Aw, ain’t no trouble at all. I’m glad you like it.” Bobby pulled out another gift, a green rectangular box and handed it to Dean. “Here ya go, Dean. Just something small before Christmas.” 

 

“Thanks Uncle Bobby. You didn’t have to do that.” 

 

“Of course I did. Go on and open it.” 

 

Dean tore away the green paper to reveal a book on cars. 

 

“I know you’re not a fan of reading. But this is a how-to on fixing up cars.” 

 

“No way? Uncle Bobby, you’re the best. Thank you.” 

 

“Ah well. Come on, why don’t we play a game of Monopoly with your Daddy?” Bobby said trying to change the subject. 

 

The kids were all for it, running to find Pastor Jim’s game board. Bobby began shivering. 

 

“Damn Jim, how cold you keeping it in here.” 

 

“Sorry.” Jim said, “I guess I should turn the heater on.” 

 

John chuckled wearily. “Yeah. That’d be nice Jim.” 

 

John and Bobby were left alone in the room together for a few moments. 

 

“So, that spirit really got you, huh?” Bobby asked taking a seat on the bed across from John. 

 

“Nothing too serious. I’ll be fine. But I’m sorry about our hunt.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

 

“I’m serious, Bobby. I can still go if you need me.” 

 

“No. Murphy’s right. We should wait until after Christmas. Your kids need a break.” There was an unsaid but very clear, _“You need a break.”_  

 

“You didn’t have to get them all that. They won’t be able to keep it all. Not with us traveling everywhere.” 

 

“I know. But I figured they could keep it at my house or at Jim’s house, since, you know, you are welcome over any time.” 

 

John smiled. “Thanks Bobby.” 

 

Jim knocked at the door, the kids by his legs. “We’re not interrupting anything are we?” 

 

“No, come on in.” John said, waiting to be pounced on again. He didn’t have to wait long. “Urgh.” Two sets of feet stepping on his lap. 

 

“Oh boys. You’re killing me.” 

 

“Sorry.” Sammy giggled. 

 

“Hey if you all don’t mind,” Pastor Jim began then cleared his throat. 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.” Bobby said. 

 

Jim rubbed the back of his neck, “I was wondering if you would go to midnight mass with me. I’m giving the sermon of course. Now before you say no, I know how the two of you feel about religion. I’m not suggesting you join the faith or anything. Even though, that would be wonderful if you did. But i’m just asking you to join me tonight in a celebration. Celebrate the fact that you’re alive, John, with two beautiful children. We can celebrate the fact that both of you are resting. That both of you have suffered year’s worth of pain but tonight you can feel peace. We can celebrate our friendship.” 

 

John chuckled quietly. “Oh Murphy. You’ve always been a sentimentalist. I suppose that’s why I love ya. I need that in my life.” 

 

Bobby clasped the preacher on his back. “We’ll go.” 

 

“Splendid!” Bobby and John burst into laughter. 

 

“I’m going to need more beer.” John murmured. 

 

“I’ll break out the six-pack.” 

 

Midnight Mass was not as bad as John was expecting. The church was decorated with beautifully handcrafted Christmas garlands and wreaths hanging from the sanctuary stage windows. The center of attraction here was the beautiful Christmas tree decorated with gold lights and of course the Nativity scene. John did feel a sense of peace in the building for the sole fact that he was with his two friends and his children. 

 

Speaking of which, his children put up a small fuss about wearing decent shirts and slacks but other than that, they were happy too. Sammy was taken aback by all the lights. He thought it was the most spectacular thing in the whole world. 

 

That is, until they started singing. Now that was the most amazing thing in the world. Sam was in pure awe as the entire congregation sang out loud. There was something magical about all these voices harmonizing together. He didn’t know the words but he tried to sing anyway. 

 

“Hark the Harold angels sing, glory to the New Born King. Peace on Earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled. Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies; With the angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem. Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King!” 

 

Dean didn’t believe in angels. His Mom told him angels we’re watching over him  and they aren’t. But Sam was happy, singing so loud with the brightest smile on his face. And Dad was happy, pulling Dean and Sam close for a sideways hug. So Dean was happy. He was very happy. 

 

In fact, Dean was so relieved to have his Dad and brother safe, next to him, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that his Dad got injured. Well of course he’s thankful the injury’s not life-threatening, just enough to keep his Dad home at night. Just enough to let Dean see his Dad relax, hunt-weary body sliding into necessary sleep and peace. He got to see Sam eat something other than spaghettios for dinner and he got to play monopoly. Of course, Dean and Sam didn’t really know how, but they teamed up with Dad. 

  
Dean won’t ever admit it, but he thinks this is what home feels like. 

 

“Hark the Harold Angels sing, glory to the New Born King!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas friends! I just wanted to say how grateful I am to have you all in my life. If you have ever read my stories thank you so much. If you have given me Kudos, I thank you with multiple hugs. And if you have ever commented I can’t possibly thank you enough. But I can try by thanking you back in every comment :)   
> Have a great break if you have one. Try to relax. I love you guys. :) :)


End file.
